


The Demon, The Unicorn and the Cockroach

by templecat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble that might become fic, Gen, Post 8x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templecat/pseuds/templecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas knows old magic, Crowley's arrogant and Meg is pissed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Demon, The Unicorn and the Cockroach

A low groan escapes her lips and she struggles to open her eyes. She’s lying on her back, in a damp puddle that is a mixture of the rainwater and her own blood. With a jerky effort she manages to sit up. She takes stock of herself.

The wound in her side is ugly and flickers with orange light around its edges but at least she’s not bleeding anymore. Curiously she pokes at it then hisses in a breath as pain shoots across her ribs. So the enchantment doesn’t stop the pain, just the lethality. Good to know.

She still can’t believe that stupid sigil worked. Or that she even trusted him about it in the first place. Who is she kidding… that oblivious angel has done a number on her and she knows it. She traces the fine scar on the back of her neck with light fingertips. She can just about make out the curves of a circle and a whole bunch of squiggles that mean nothing to her. Enochian, she assumes, although she didn’t ask.

_“It’s old magic. Older than me. It is not spoken about in Heaven or Hell and all the places in-between.”_

_“Yes but will it work Clarence? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Angel-blade proofing? Come on, that’s like a fairytale they tell baby demons when they can’t sleep at night.”_

_His eyes darken as he stares at her. “This is not a fairytale. Hold still.”_

She shakes her head and thanks no one in particular that Crowley was his usual arrogant ass, toting around that angel blade like he was the Fallen himself. With a grunt she stands and holds a dirty hand against her wound. She scowls at the tear in her top. Dammit she liked this outfit. “What has that cockroach got against my fashion choices? First the hair…” Her words die as she recalls the burn of the bleach, poured over her head and tracing paths of fire into her skin. The embers  of hatred she has for the King of Hell flares up inside anew. Her lip curls upwards and her free hand balls into a fist.

She’s going to kill that smarmy bastard. She’s going to set his own fucking dogs on him and watch as he tries to push his own organs back into his body. She’s going to enjoy the look in his eyes as he realises that his favourite whore has killed him.

But first, she’s got a unicorn to find.

 


End file.
